


Stranded

by Anonymous



Category: MindCrack RPF
Genre: Bloodplay, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Blame closes the entrance behind them, leaving them in the near-dark together. With the heat and the muted sounds from outside it’s oddly intimate.“I figured you needed a moment away,” Vechs says. “I can disconnect if you want to be alone.”“No,” comes out of Blame’s mouth even before he’s decided to say it, voice tight. “No, don’t.”UHC XX. Warning for minor bloodplay, D/s dynamics, unhealthy relationships, and internalized homophobia.
Relationships: BlameTheController/Vechs
Kudos: 1
Collections: Anonymous





	Stranded

**Author's Note:**

> _Reposted from Tumblr, 2015._
> 
> Posting here because even if no-one reads it, there's nothing more annoying that coming late to fandom and all of the fic has vanished into Tumblr's useless search function or is hidden behind abandoned communities. (I haven't even been in this fandom for years.)
> 
> Written after UHC XX, having seen what Team Nancy Drew did to the nether portal, so it basically goes as an alternate timeline after that moment. Originally it was part of the post UHC 19 arc I’d written for these two, but it didn’t fit, so I tweaked it and made it standalone.

"Er guys, where's the portal?"

"It's right fucking in front of you," Blame replies, coming around the corner to join Pak. "Right h-"

The three of them who were following Pak come to a stop, staring at the few haphazard blocks that are all that's left of their exit back to the overworld.

"No it isn't," Pak says, more for something to say than telling them something they can't work out themselves.

"And they call _me_ cheaty…"

"Huh. I guess it must've been Nancy Drew," Vechs muses, to which Nebris hums a reply, sounding slightly in awe of a tactic he simply hadn't thought of. Pak just looks confused.

Blame though has stayed strangely silent, and Vechs looks round to find him.

He's statue-still, staring at what's left of the portal so hard that Vechs is genuinely concerned that the force of it might make the obsidian itself catch fire. He's beyond angry, beyond livid, absolutely boiling with rage and frustration, so angry that he's past swearing and yelling. There's no question that if they ran into Nancy Drew right now Blame would take great pleasure in beating them to a pulp with ruthless efficiency.

"Blame?" Vechs ventures, close enough to see that he's literally quivering with fury. He just manages to catch Blame's eye, recognizing at once just how much more than simply anger is simmering under his friend's skin right now - the way he's kicking himself for not seeing this coming, the betrayal after their supposed agreement on tricks like this, the panic at being trapped, the powerlessness eating him away already… Things had been going so _well_ …

"Well, seeing as we can't go anywhere right now," Vechs says, voice full of fake cheer but giving a meaningful look at Blame at the same time, "I'm taking a bathroom break. I'll wall myself in." He doesn't move until Blame has met his eyes.

Blame glances at him, before adding in a flat and emotionless voice, "Yeah, good idea, me too," and only then does Vechs make to leave. Nebris and Pak don't seem to have noticed quite how furious Blame is, and just nod distractedly, waving Vechs and Blame away and promise to keep an eye out while they're gone, already busy trying to put the pieces together to figure out where the other team must have hidden the new portal.

Vechs digs into the netherrack, carving out a small space for the two of them. They're far enough away that as long as they keep quiet they won't be heard by their teammates over the crackling of the fires and the background noises of the mobs.

Blame closes the entrance behind them, leaving them in the near-dark together. With the heat and the muted sounds from outside it's oddly intimate.

"I figured you needed a moment away," Vechs says, taking off his helmet, moving his goggles up off his eyes, and running a hand through his hair. "I can disconnect if you want to be alone."

"No," comes out of Blame's mouth even before he's decided to say it, voice tight. "No, don't."

"Okay," Vechs replies, and he tries not to use the same type of soothing tone he might use on his cats – he's pretty sure Blame won't appreciate that.

"Just, URGH," and Vechs jumps as Blame suddenly slams the side of his hand into the wall, emotions boiling over at last. It leaves a dent in the soft netherrack.

"I'm right here if you need me," Vechs says after another short moment of near-silence, and Blame immediately scoffs at him. He doesn't need to cry on anyone's shoulder, and Vechs already knows what's wrong – Vechs is just as stuck here as he is. Then he pauses, looking at Vechs in the gloom, realizing he's misunderstanding. They're walled in together, and he's near to bursting with a swirl of anger and disappointment and frustration and powerlessness, making him shake just to keep it in check.

"You're not talking about giving me a hug or any shit like that, are you."

Vechs shakes his head. "Whatever you need me for."

Vechs is expecting Blame to take out his physical frustration on him, to take the urge to punch someone and instead use it to slam Vechs up against a wall, kiss him and bite him until he's bleeding, and to rip his clothes off and have him on his knees right there on the floor, hand over Vechs' mouth to keep him quiet even when Blame's on his knees behind him, fucking him hard enough to make Vechs want to scream. And Vechs is fine with that, _more_ than fine (he wouldn't keep coming back otherwise), and would be even if there wasn't the ulterior motive here of needing to give Blame enough of an outlet to clear his head, because right now he's too wound up to be of any use to anyone; himself _or_ the team.

That's what Vechs expects. It's not what he gets.

Blame breathes out and closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again he pulls his mask off at the same time, locking eyes with Vechs as he lets it fall onto the floor.

"Get on your knees."

It doesn't even occur to Vechs not to immediately obey, dropping to his knees so suddenly that he winces. It's something about Blame's voice, something of army in him coming out with the command, and Vechs finds himself almost powerless to refuse. He's used to Blame being pretty controlling in the bedroom, but usually that's physically, using his extra strength to restrain and manhandle him to wherever or however Blame wants him. (To be honest, they don't speak much at all in those situations - Vechs is pretty sure that's got more than a bit to do with Blame's reluctance to even think about what they're doing together, what they _are_ together, seemingly content to live a strange, denial-based double life, one moment telling anyone who'll listen how much he hates Vechs, only to go back to his base and have Vechs pinned beneath him on his mattress, mouths crushed together and both their cocks in his hand. But that's never bothered Vechs.)

The sight of Vechs kneeling on the ground like this, his obedience immediate and unquestioning, and the expression on his face that's more trusting than nervous does something to Blame. Vechs hands control over to him entirely, giving him power back over _something_ , and it seems to help, far more than Blame could have imagined. It doesn't lessen or quell or quieten the emotions churning in his chest – they're still there, and they're just as strong – but it's louder than them, drowning them out and lifting him clear of the whirlpool that was dragging him under, leaving them to roil around in their useless storm until later, when he's strong enough to focus them, and to galvanize them into something he can use.

"Take off your shirt."

The words are steady and even, and Vechs complies all in a rush, red shirt going up over his head and taking his white undershirt with it. In the dark Blame can just make out the smudge of the bruise that he'd left on Vechs' neck last time, and he steps forward, pressing his fingers into it, making Vechs hiss slightly. But he doesn't move, willing to do it would seem whatever Blame would ask of him, for no other reason than that Blame's asking Blame's head spins and his cock stirs at the power of it.

"Open your pants and touch yourself."

Vechs follows the instruction without hesitation, sinking back onto his heels and soon wrapping his hand around himself, stroking almost lazily to full hardness, keeping his eyes fixed on Blame.

(There's still a large part of Blame that insists he shouldn't find another guy getting himself off right in front of him arousing in any way at all, but he thinks loudly to himself that it's Vechs' obedience that's the turn on right now, and that's enough to placate it for now.)

Vechs is still touching himself, still watching Blame, lips slightly parted and a slight flush high on his cheeks, waiting for whatever he might ask next.

"Stop," Blame says. Vechs' hand stills, and Blame steps forward until he's right in front of Vechs. "Keep your hands by your sides." Vechs complies, even if he does seem a little reluctant to let go of himself. Then Blame is undoing his pants, taking off his loincloth entirely, and freeing his cock from his boxers. Vechs doesn't need any instruction for this; he licks his lips before taking Blame into his mouth, feeling him harden fully against his tongue. Blame breathes out heavily, knotting his fingers tight into Vechs' hair to hold him in place and make him keep to the rhythm Blame is setting. He doesn't have an option but to stay on his knees and take it as Blame starts to fuck his mouth, hard and fast, moaning around Blame's cock even as it hits the back of his throat, choking off his breaths and making him whimper. He can taste the precum leaking out, and _god_ does he want to touch himself again, just a little bit, just the smallest bit of relief, he's always loved it when Blame's rough like this… Blame notices the moment he tries though, wrenching his arm away and pulling out, glowering down at him.

"Someone needs to learn to follow instructions."

Vechs finds his mouth going dry at Blame's tone, and he tries to swallow.

Blame tugs at the hair at the back of Vechs' neck to tilt Vechs' head up, looking him straight in the eye before leaning down to kiss him roughly, biting hard on his lower lip. Vechs doesn't seem sure where to put his hands, eventually fisting them into Blame's jacket and cloak, until Blame pulls back, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him half to his feet. Vechs' height means he has to finish standing up by himself, which he finds more difficult than usual on his unsteady legs.

The space isn't large, so when Blame draws his sword Vechs can't take more than a half step away, already backed up against the wall.

"Don't even breathe."

Vechs holds his breath, the point of Blame's sword only just resting against his chest. Blame's eyes are even darker than usual, but the the rage-filled shaking from before all this is gone, any of it that was left now kept in check simply by having something so dangerous both in his hand and so close to Vechs. The enchantments shimmer in the dimness, Vechs' eyes reflecting the purple glint in his blue irises, and the diamond of the blade is a tiny prick of cold against his skin.

"…Blame?"

Blame starts to draw it down his chest, agonizingly slowly, and so very carefully, but Vechs can't help but suck in a shocked breath, and as his chest expands the blade cuts into the skin.

Blame's eyes flicker, but he keeps moving the blade downwards, the cut tapering off to just a tiny scratch as Vechs breaths unevenly out again, chest falling, Blame's control never faltering, keeping the blade exactly where he intends it to be.

He stops just above the waistline of Vechs' pants, a little way below his navel, and pauses, holding the point still, and looking up to find Vechs staring at him, cheeks flushed and pupils huge and dark. There's a thin line of blood welling up along the cut on his chest, tiny crimson beads stained almost black by the lack of light.

Blame lifts the sword away and Vechs gasps in the breath he didn't dare take yet, the tautness dropping out of his body as Blame sheaths his sword.

They've both forgotten where they are, the reasons for Blame's anger pushed out of their minds.

He closes on Vechs again and looks down at the cut on his chest. Then he pulls off his glove, and gently rubs his thumb over it, spreading the blood into a thin smear.

"You didn't even ask me what I was doing," Blame says, voice even, trying to keep the tone of almost wonder out of it. It mostly works.

"I trust you." Vechs' reply is quiet and honest even if his voice is rough and shaking.

"Far too much."

Blame puts his thumb in his mouth, sucking off the blood rather than letting it dry. It's not like he's not going to be getting more blood all over him later in the competition, but still. Vechs' reaction still take him by surprise though, his lips now parted and his eyes fixed on Blame's mouth, the most lustful expression on his face that Blame has ever seen, hands twitching with the effort of keeping still.

Blame stares, considering for a moment, and then goes back to swipe up some more of the blood onto his thumb, this time meeting Vechs' gaze as he puts it in his mouth. He can feel Vechs twitch against his thigh, hard from earlier but getting almost impossibly harder at the sight. Then Vechs has literally pounced, taking Blame's head between his hands and kissing him frantically, wild and desperate and wet and messy, as if he's trying to lick the taste of his own blood right out of Blame's mouth.

"God, you're more fucked up than I realized," Blame breathes, when Vechs stops kissing him just long enough to pull pants and boxers properly out of the way.

Vechs pauses to look up at Blame. "Yup," he almost whispers back, "but then, I think you're more fucked up than you realized too."

He takes both of them in hand before Blame can say anything else, stroking them together, lips at Blame's neck and nipping sharply at the soft skin, and any chance for Blame to even consider the worrying accuracy of that statement is long gone, drowned out by the torrent of need he'd been keeping so tightly in check until now, rushing out as Vechs jerks them both off, his hand trapped between their bodies. They're both already so very close, racing towards their climaxes, bodies tangled together, and it's only moments before Vechs comes apart in his own hand, Blame following shortly after, noises bitten back as they're rocked by their orgasms.

It wasn't what either of them had really planned, but it's worked - as they're coming back down, resting against each other and propped against the wall, the thoughts that filter back in of how they're all four trapped in the nether together aren't quite so overwhelming anymore.

*

"Toilet break. Sure," Nebris says disbelievingly when they both reappear, his eyebrows raised high.

Blame doesn't reply, just fold his arms defensively, but Nebris' eyebrows stay up.

"Well as long as you're both _feeling better_ …"

Blame is so very glad that his mask covers his entire face, because he's gone redder than the heat of the nether can ever justify. And that's without being able to see the mark Vechs has left just above his collar…


End file.
